


My Glass heart

by Mishacollinsishot



Category: My Glass heart
Genre: Father-Daughter Relationship
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2017-02-02
Updated: 2017-02-02
Packaged: 2018-09-21 13:08:37
Rating: Not Rated
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 3,324
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/9550457
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Mishacollinsishot/pseuds/Mishacollinsishot
Summary: At night I lie awake and think about you in this dark room, crickets chirping outside. I think about why you left, was it something about me that you did not like.





	

At night I lie awake and think about you in this dark room, crickets chirping outside. I think about why you left, was it something about me that you did not like. No, I was not even born yet when you left. You say that it was a drunken mistake, so does that make me a mistake. Am I just a big mistake that you never wanted, never could love, never to treat me like your daughter. You say you feel horrible about missing my childhood, HA laugh it up because I know that is a joke. Because if you really felt bad then why are you not trying to talk to me, to spend time with me, to come to my events. But then I think is it because I have done something wrong while growing into the person I am today to make you not love me. Is it something I said or did to make you do the things you do and say the things you say. Because I can change, I have changed and I keep changing.But then the thought pops into my head if he really loved you then he would love all of your flaws because you are his daughter. But that's not the case with us, no you have really messed up my thinking. I can not even perform in front of a crowd before a performance without thinking about you. And I will be looking from backstage behind the curtain looking for you already knowing that I will not find you out in the crowd you will not be there, be my biggest fan … no you will be at your house with my step-mother and her children. And it will be fifteen minutes before the event starts and I will find a dark, empty room and cry my eyes out compose myself and my appearance and go into my place with five minutes to spare. Even as I lie here in my bed I start to cry from the pain the memories haunt me with. Why did you do this to me, what did I do to deserve this. No! No I refuse to let this happen to me, you should not be able to control me and how I act and feel. I am sick of your excuses, sick of all of your lies. Sick of all of the looks I get from people when they find out about our situation, of being treated differently. Because I am a bastard child so what, that does not mean people should walk on eggshells around me. But Kayla my thought echo does that mean we will be done trying to have a relationship with him. And now I am trapped, I do not want to have no one as my dad. What do I do? Do I stay and take this mental abuse or do I leave and have no one to walk me down the aisle, no grandfather for my children, no one to get ice cream with my children after school. Who would help me fix my car when it is broken down, to help fix up my leaky roof. No I have to try to work through this, besides it is the Christian thing to do.  
And these thoughts start to vanish and I am sitting with my friends at my dad's house and we are just about to leave through the garage door. Night is about to fall and we need to get back home before 10. My dad calls over "kaybay you are not going to leave without giving me a hug are you?" As I walk over on the hardwood floorboards to give him a hug I have a strange feeling of hope that he really does love me. And as we embrace I hear him whisper in my ear "I love you" and as I am about to reply I suddenly wake up. I look around to only see my dark room my clock reading 2:00 am. I start heaving as my heart breaks into a million pieces and I start to cry. Not the soft tiny tears that rolls down the cheek, but a river of tears flooding out of my eyes racing down my nose and the side of my face to only splash into the cool soft pillow. As I lie in the dark trying to not make a sound so my mother does not wake. Breathing heavily under my blankets and into my pillow, trying to slow my breathing and my tears. And even though I have only had that dream once it still haunts me. Why? Why do I let it get to me? Why do I let myself picture a world of which only my imagination can make come true. A world where you never left and instead you married mom and we all lived together. Where my older brothers and I could grow up together in peace instead of split up because of their mother and her problems with me. A place where you stayed and my brothers and I went to the same school and lived in the same house. You a computer technician and mom as an operation supervisor at Cortrust Mortgage. And when I was bullied from a young age to the fifth grade my brothers were there to save me and protect me. And after school my brothers and I would ride our bikes down the bumpy sidewalk and up to my grandma's house to play tag and kickball in her backyard with the other kids my grandma babysits. And when I was in the 3rd grade and great grandpa Scholten died you would be there to hold me. As well as when the usual tradition of great grandpa and I watching the 4th of July fireworks together you would hold me and be with me as I held back the tears. Watching the fireworks explode in the air over the night sky at the baseball fields. You would be there for my first dance recital, Choir concert, Band concert, play, marching band competition. We would go sledding and tubing on the fresh snow of winter. While playing football and swimming in the warm breeze of summer. But I shake myself out of this fantasy. Because now that I am older I know this was never a possibility. Since even though mom never says what she thinks of you, I know deep down that she hates you. She hates what you have done to me, hates you for all of the lies, and hates you as a father and as a person. And I will not lie, I have heard you and step-mother talking about my mother and I. And I hate it; I hate the lies, the badmouthing, the snobbishness nature that you and my step-mother have. I hate that to give me money you have to sneak it to me behind my step-mother's back. Because you and I both know that if my step-mother would have her way all of the extra money would go to her and her kids. And there would be nothing for my brothers and I for our extra curricular activities. And as always we would be cleaning up after her kid’s mess. I as always cleaning Britney's room and being forced to do her chores.  
I now have to calm myself as these thoughts go through my head. And instead start thinking about how you have affected my brothers and my relationship. Even though we are only half-siblings I still feel a connection with them. Like with Kevin, even though Kevin and I are 5 years apart we both share a similar faith in God. But since we never got to see each other growing up, we are not as close as we could be like other siblings are. We have never gotten to go to youth group together, or go to VBS and learn about God together. Because if we had maybe we would have found that we have more in common than we think. While with Logan and I who are 2 years apart we have a similar taste for video games and even though when I was in the 6th grade he got a girl pregnant and he had to start being a dad, we somehow found time to roughhouse together. Although because of you I never got to see him when we were little so we have never gotten to experience all of the wrestling matches that could have happened. But at least with Taylor and I we were able to reclaim some of the time we lost. By him driving me up to Beresford with his girlfriend and he tried scaring us by taking his hands off the wheel when we were alone on the road. Or the time he told Katana and I that he was going to be our ‘good’ older sister role model unlike my step-sister and step-cousin. So we went and bought a gallon of chocolate chip ice cream and 2 cases of Mountain Dew. And watched chick flicks with us for the rest of the day. But since we did not get to see each other grow into the young adults we are today and since we are 4 years apart he has already left for college and is engaged. We never got to go to squeal and wheels together and eat a ton of baby back ribs, to steal his hat while he was sleeping, or to go sledding down the hills in our corn fields during the winter. But, you do not care how it has affected us and our relationships with each other. You only care about yourself and how you look.  
You said I was a drunken mistake but I think that is not true. Because that would mean my mother would have had to be drinking with you under the age limit since she was 20 when she got pregnant with me. I think I even know why you tried to lie to me, it was to make it seem as though you never knew the consequences. But you did, you were sober and knew what you were doing. And now you are basically calling me a mistake. But when you talk about Logan’s first kid you call it a blessing and how a child is not a mistake. Even though he had his first kid his freshman year of highschool. Highschool dad, younger than you were when my mother got pregnant with me. She at least was in her second year of college and you a 28 year old who was recently divorced.. Although you do not care about what age Logan was when he got a girl pregnant compared to you when you got my mom pregnant do you. Just as long as you do not look bad. But then that means you also think of me as a mistake. Which does not make me feel any better about myself. It makes me feel like I am trash to you. And I start to cry, because if I am trash to you then all of the times you said you how you ‘love’ me is a lie. Why not lie to your only biological daughter. Since you got a new and improved step-daughter to take the position of daughter. It must be time to throw out the old and in with the new.  
And these thoughts also fade as I try to control my tears as they consume me. I try to stay silent once more as to not wake mom. Because I do not want someone to try to help me through this, this is something I have to do with just me and God. And I do not want anyone to be worrying about me and how I am doing, since this is my problem to work through. No one will know about how I have cried countless tears over you, how I have even prayed that you would want to spend more time with me, how I have been disappointed time and time again by you, lost countless hours of sleep over you. No I will always put forth the persona that nothing is wrong, with a smile almost always plastered on my face. Always watching what I am listening to for example a song where the father is singing to his beloved daughter I could cry about the lyrics for the whole song because that will never be you and me. I will always be careful with what I say to my friends about you. Careful not to tell them everything and get them concerned. No, no one must know how I truly feel. My persona will never falter, because I start becoming numb to all of the pain you have caused me. Numb to the lies, the world sometimes loses it colar and becomes bleak. But then I just start thinking of what the Lord would want me to do. So I always leave a little part of my heart open to you. Always there as an option to love me, to care for me. And I try to make myself prepared for more disappointment and lies. But in the back of my head the devil tells me thatas much as I try to feel numb towards you. I know it will never be enough. There will be more late nights where I will think to myself about you and cry myself to sleep or until I start to feel numb over the subject. Numb to the pain it has caused me.  
But then I start to remember the day you told me about my step-mother. It was a sunny summer day and we were driving up to your house as to have me for the first time ever to spend the weekend with you. You told me how you were married now to a lovely woman who had three kids. One a daughter about my age. And I was excited, how wrong I was to feel this way. But I can not blame myself, I was only going into the 6th grade that fall and was full of childish hopes. Although I will give myself credit, I at least first thought of the possibility of her being like the stepmother from Cinderella, but then gave her the benefit of the doubt and thought she could be different. But wait I am not lying here in my bed having a hard time sleeping because of her, no this is about you father. Even though I could go on a rampage about how she is trouble with a capital T. Either way you have made your own bed and so have I.  
Nevertheless I will try to calm down and work through this and move onto something else about us. Did you know I have not seen you since Christmas and it is now almost Thanksgiving. Do you know how sad that is. You have not been to one of my plays in over a year, and did not see me on my birthday. Did you know I can count with both of my hands how many of my birthdays you have remembered and how many we have celebrated together. And I can count how many events of mine you have been to, because when I was little and you actually showed up to something of mine I noticed. I was always scanning the crowd looking to find you, always knowing what I would find. And if I did find you out there, and that is a big if, my heart would pitter patter, my stomach full of butterflies. I felt so giddy walking out to the commons to find you waiting to congratulate me. But when you were not there, which was most of the time, I would be walking out to the commons to my mother to find out the excuse this time, if there even was one. Somehow she could tell something was wrong, and to try to make me feel better we would always get DQ ice cream with an order of cheese balls. Me trying to seem happy in front of everyone. Knowing that if I show even the slightest bit of sadness, they will try to cheer me up saying to look at everyone who is in my life that loves me. But I already know this, and no matter what it does not help because it is not you. You are my father and so far I have found nothing to fill your void. Although some people would consider me lucky that I can at least see you, since you are not dead like other peoples father. And I get where they are coming from, but I can not feel sympathy for them. Because at least for most of them they knew their father loved them and cared for them. And would give anything in the world to be with them.  
But that is not the case with you father, all you care about is my stupid step-mother and her kids. And also about video games and what make you happy, not caring about anyone else but yourself. I just find it funny that you got married the weekend of my birthday, and you can remember your anniversary just not my birthday. Is it just some big joke to you that I am not in on. Because the last time I checked I am not laughing, I do not find it funny. Nor do I find it funny when you tell me to think of something big that I want for my birthday and it's mine, for me to then to tell you and not have you talk to me for months on end. It gets old and lonely not knowing. I start to try to make excuses in my head about how you must have been kidnaped or killed. And they just do not have the heart to tell me. But then I will see something my step-mom or you posted on facebook with a picture of you and like a glass figurine falling from a child's small hands breaks, so does my heart.  
So in the end I will force myself to continue to endure your psychological torture not saying a word to anyone about how I truly feel. Always keeping the door to my life and heart open to you, knowing that you might not ever want to enter. Knowing that my glass figurine heart might never be whole again, and that some pieces might be lost forever. No matter how hard I try to look I will never find them. And slowly my once beautiful glass heart figurine loses it's color. But wait there is one happy ending to this story. If you hold that glass figurine into the light it shines with more color and castes out it light in farther directions than it did before and spreads its color across the whole room making it a more colorful place to be in. Appearing stronger than it was before it broke. And so I like this glass figurine will try to be strong and make everyone else's day and maybe life a little bit brighter. So you know what father I guess I should thank you because if you had not have left I would not be this strong independent woman I am today. Thank you for making me go through hell to try to put myself back together again only to make myself stronger, even if there are some prices of me missing or not in the right place. I believe I am better person because of it. Thank you is the last thoughts that run through my head as I peacefully fall asleep, ready for the life I have set ahead of me. -Veronica Roth

**Author's Note:**

> So yeah, I do not know what to say after writing this. Thanks you for reading this very depressing narrative. I hope you liked it, it is my first thing that I have ever written so I do not know if this is any good or not.


End file.
